


one more night (i cross my heart and hope to die)

by challaudaku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/challaudaku/pseuds/challaudaku
Summary: Draco's big day is finally here: he's getting married. Except one small problem arises—he's already married [for bex, royal!au]





	one more night (i cross my heart and hope to die)

**Author's Note:**

> for bex, via gge. this was supposed to be for your birthday, also but it's late. sorry! i hope the fic makes up for it, though; i'm quite proud of it :)
> 
> 3946 words, by google docs

Draco likes hanging out with, as his parents calls them, the peasants. He likes using their names. After all, his parents  _always_  tell him to be polite to all the other royal families when they come over; why shouldn't the same apply to their servants?

He's hanging out with Charlie, currently, because Charlie is  _cool_.

Cool. Charlie taught Draco that word, so of course it would fit him. His parents would never let him use such slang.

Charlie's the one who puts the idea in Draco's head, in the first place with just six simple words: "I don't want to get married."

"What do you mean?" Draco asks him, turning to him. They're in Draco's school room, where his tutors come and teach him about all sorts of useless things and Charlie's leaning against Draco's desk and he looks a little bit relieved; if Draco's talking to him, he's not going to be yelled at to work.

"I mean, I don't want to get married. It never appealed to me." Charlie runs a hand through his red hair, messing it up. Draco has a strong urge to pat it into place—who'd want their hair to be  _messy?_ —but he keeps his hands to himself; he knows that Charlie doesn't like people touching his hair. Draco's tried before.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Draco asks, looking at Charlie's chest instead of his face.

"Sure," Charlie says.

And then Draco nearly explodes, because what he wants to tell Charlie is something he shouldn't feel at all. He shouldn't tell anyone. He definitely shouldn't be telling a servant.

"I don't want to have an arranged marriage. I want to marry for  _love_ ," Draco whispers. He feels giddy. Is this what having a real friend is like? Telling dark secrets together?

"Really?"

Draco makes himself look back up at Charlie, despite the messy hair, and he sees that Charlie has one eyebrow raised.

"Really," Draco confirms. Charlie makes a little grunt, and they're quiet again, before an idea hits Draco, right between the eyes. "What if we got married?" he offers to Charlie. His chest is  _brimming_  with giddiness, now.

"What do you mean?" Charlie asks, tilting his head.

"What if we were to get married to each other? Then neither of us will have to get married to anyone else and we can  _both_  be happy."

It's the perfect solution in Draco's eyes; Draco won't have to be forced into a marriage to someone he doesn't love and Charlie won't have to get married at all.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks. He still has a single eyebrow raised.

"I'm sure," Draco says, standing up a little taller. "Now, go and get marriage papers. We'll have to sign them."

Charlie opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but he shuts it in a frown and walks out.

…

Charlie returns a few minutes later, holding papers in his hand, and three of his brothers in tow; the oldest one, and two younger ones, the twins.

"We're going to need witnesses," Charlie explains, nodding at his brothers, "and someone to officiate it." Draco smiles. Charlie thought of everything.

"Perfect! Let's sign," he says.

"Are you sure?" the oldest one, Bill, asks. He has an eyebrow raised and Draco is slightly shocked at how much him and Charlie look alike. He waves Bill's questions off, taking the papers out of Charlie's hand. Putting them on the desk, he squints at them, trying to read all the small writing, but then he shrugs and flips through them, looking for  _the_ certificate.

Once he finds it, he holds it up.

"Wow," he says, "it looks really real."

"That's because—" Charlie says, before cutting himself off. Draco turns to him, still smiling.

"Let's sign," he repeats. Charlie nods and pulls out a quill and ink from his pocket. Draco wonders briefly why he'd put it in his pocket—the ink could spill!—but he ignores it, turning to Charlie as he hunches over the certificate.

Once Charlie straightens up, Draco walks over, too, and takes the quill from Charlie. He takes a deep breath before signing his name on the other line. He blows at the ink for good measure before backing away.

Next, Bill goes to sign in the 'officator' line, still looking slightly wary. The twins go last, bickering over who will sign the witnesses line first. Once they finish fighting and sign, Draco turns to Charlie.

"There," he says. "We're married."

"I guess so," Charlie agrees. He still has a single eyebrow raised and Draco wonders if it'll get stuck like that.

"Now, go and put back these papers," Draco orders, straightening his back. Charlie nods and collects them, being visibly careful with the certificate.

"Of course,  _husband_ ," Charlie says. There's a slight smile on his face. Draco sort of likes the sound of that. Husband.

* * *

Draco doesn't like suits. He'd rather get married in something more comfortable, but if he had  _any_  choice in his wedding, he'd probably choose a different girl to get married to. Astoria's nice, but Draco doesn't  _love_ her.

He's scared that he never will, honestly.

Still, he sits still as servants circle around him, making sure every hair is in place and every bit of his suit is perfect. Someone knocks at his dressing room door, and Draco sees another servant entering through his mirror. He looks nervous and Draco sighs. He misses the servants he had when he was younger, but they left years ago. Now his servants, like the one that just entered, Longbottom, are all nervous around him.

Draco's not that scary, is he?

"Your Royal Highness?" Longbottom squeaks out. "His Majesty the King would like to see you in his study," he says. He brings up a hand to scratch the back of his neck but then immediately snaps it back at his side.

Draco sighs and straightens up, shooing the servants pampering him away.

"I will be right there," Draco says, turning around to face Longbottom fully. Longbottom nods and backs out of the room, bowing. Draco dusts off his suit, despite the fact that there's no dust on it, and steps out, a servant holding open the door for him.

He could've opened it himself.

As he makes his way to his father's study, the servants still flock him. They're not making him feel better about going to see his father. His father, with the cold exterior. It might just be Draco's pessimism, but he doubts that his father wants to give him a hug, a kiss, and some advice before getting married.

He shoos the servants away as they reach his father's door, and he lifts up a hand to knock, but a voice tells him to enter before his knuckles even hit the wood.

Draco wrenches open the door, to be face-to-face with his father, who's sitting in a tall throne. Not his  _throne_ , of course, but a throne.

"Haven't you ever heard of  _silent_  servants, Son?" Draco's father asks, before saying anything else. Draco doesn't answer. "I called you in here to tell you some bad news," his father continues. Draco waits. "Your wedding must be postponed."

Draco knows that he should probably wait until his father lets him speak, but he can't help it.

"What?" he asks, breaking his stance. He snaps back to standing tall at the look on his father's face. "Sorry," he mutters.

"Do not mutter, Draco," he rebuffs.

"Sorry," Draco repeats, clearer this time. "But why?" he asks as an afterthought. Draco's father motions to a paper on his desk. Draco recognises a marriage certificate, all spaces filled with writing.

"Do you know what this is, Draco?" his father asks.

"A marriage certificate, Father," Draco responds. He's trying to speak clearly and not sound bored, but he has no idea where his father is going.

" _Your_  marriage certificate, Draco." Draco's father lets that sit in, but Draco's drawing a blank. He's not married. His father clears his throat before reading from the page, "'This is to certify that Charles Weasley and Draco Malfoy were untied in the bonds of holy matrimony at the Palace of Malfoy on the seventeen day of March in the year 1989'." Draco's father pauses, looking up at Draco. "And then there are your signatures, along with two witnesses and an ordained minister."

Draco holds back laughter. His father is going to postpone the wedding for a piece of paper Draco signed when he was eight?

"We didn't have an official ordained minister at the time, Father. The certificate is null and void," Draco points out. Sure, he doesn't want to get married to Astoria just yet, but he's not going to pretend to be married to  _Charlie_ , who he hasn't talked to in nine years.

Draco's father closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he looks very strained.

"William Weasley was—at the time—an ordained minister. The Weasley men have a long history of ministers, and William was ordained when he became of age."

Draco blinks.

Oh.

"So the wedding is postponed?" Draco asks. He feels weird. He's legally  _married_?

"You need to visit this 'Charles' and convince him to divorce you," his father says. It's an order. "We will keep this covered up, under the ruse that Astoria is sick and cannot get married yet. You will leave at dusk."

Draco nods, though he knows that he has no choice in the matter; he's going to have to go and convince him, even if he doesn't want to. He stands before his father awkwardly, before his father gives a little sigh.

"You may leave, Draco," he says. He shoots a withering look at him. Draco bows at his father and backs out of the room. He has a strong urge to untie his tie as soon as he's out of the room; it seems to be strangling him. He wait until he gets back to his bedroom, though, to loosen it.

Draco knows that a prince shouldn't, but he wants to flop down on his bed. He feels  _exhausted_. Getting married  _and_  divorced in one day. That is, if he can even convince Charlie to divorce him.

He leaves at dusk.

…

Charlie has a dog. Draco doesn't like dogs.

To be fair, Draco has never really  _met_  a dog, but he's pretty sure that he won't like them; they're big and smelly and get fur everywhere. Or maybe that's just his parents talking.

But it's funny, really, because Draco can remember Charlie vividly talking about how much he wanted a dog but how he could never get one, at least as long as he worked in the castle. Draco feels slightly proud that Charlie was able to get one and then he feels bad for feeling proud; he's not supposed to feel anything. He's supposed to get Charlie's signature and get out.

Charlie has a dog, outside of his house, who's jet black. It lifts its head at Draco's carriage at it approaches and wags its tail with a little bark.

His servants help him out of the carriage and flock him as his makes his way over to Charlie's door, shielding him from the dog, who seems to be straining to get to Draco. Once they arrive at the door, Draco takes a deep breath and raises a single fist, about to knock. Before his fist makes contact, one of his servants pipes up, "Let me, Your Royal Highness!"

Draco tries not to roll his eyes as a servant knocks on the door instead. He really doesn't understand why they think he's not capable to  _knock on a door_.

A few moments pass before the door flies open, Charlie Weasley standing there in his redheaded glory.

"Prince Draco," Charlie says, giving a bow. "Come in," he says, gesturing behind him. Draco can see Charlie give apprehensive looks at Draco's servants as they walk in with him.

Charlie's house is small but has a lot of space, everything shoved against the walls. There's a kettle with steam coming out of it and papers litter a small table in one corner.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Charlie asks. Draco can almost sense the laughter underneath the question. He opens his mouth, about to speak and tell Charlie their situation, when he's suddenly aware of the servants still flocking him.

He hates the feeling he gets in his chest, but he wants them to leave. This feels like it should be a private moment. Draco's servants shouldn't be listening in. He's about to get a  _divorce_.

"Men," he says, looking around him, "wait outside and I will fetch you when I need you."

There's four of them with Draco and they all nod, scrambling to get out of Draco's way.

"Wow, quite private," Charlie remarks, raising his eyebrows and smirking. Draco has an urge to snack the smirk off of Charlie's face, but he instead clears his throat. He needs to get right to it, then.

"I want a divorce," he forced out, gritting his teeth. "I  _need_  a divorce," he corrects himself, trying to stress the urgency of his visit. He will  _not_ have his future messed up because of Charlie.

"And why do you need me?" Charlie asks. He lowers his brows, furrowing them, but he's still smirking, much to Draco's chagrin.

"We're married."

…

Charlie has stopped smirking.

They've moved to Charlie's small little table and Draco's gripping a cup of tea like it's a lifeline. He's probably not going to drink it, but its warmth is nice.

"So we're legally married and now I have to sign divorce papers so you can get married?" Charlie recaps, staring at Draco. "Again," he adds. Draco sends him a glare.

"Look, just sign the papers and I can be on my merry way and we'll never see each other again," Draco says. The quicker he can do this the better, he figures. He wants to go home, have his wedding, and have the life he's  _supposed_  to have. He never wanted any of this.

"What happens if I don't sign it?" Charlie asks. There's a ghost of a smirk on his lips and Draco's glad that it's not a full smirk; he's not sure if he could stop himself from smacking Charlie this time. Smirking isn't nice in his dire time of need.

"Then I will be royally screwed." Draco cringed as he realises what he said. He's subconsciously cracking jokes? "Er—no pun intended."

Charlie laughs anyway, a hard and clean laugh. It's like a punch to Draco. This isn't a time for them to sit around like old friends. Draco  _needs_  Charlie's signature and then he needs to get out.

"I'll sign it," Charlie says after he finishes laughing. A pressure lifts off Draco's chest as he says the words. He didn't even realise it was there.

"You will?" Draco says. He reaches for the papers, safely tucked away in his father's best briefcase, but then he remembers that it's in the carriage. Still, he can get it easily. He's just glad he didn't have to beg to get Charlie to agree.

"On one condition," Charlie adds and the weight settles back on to Draco's chest, pressing the life out of him. "You have to be my husband for one night."

"What?" Draco says, scoffing. "Apparently I've been your husband for the past nine years and—"

"And we've never even spent one night together," Charlie says, cutting him off. Draco falters. Sure, that's true, but it's only true because their marriage is a fluke. It was something between two  _kids_.

At the same time, one night seems like nothing. Draco needs to spend one night with Charlie and then he has the rest of his  _life_  to spend with Astoria. It seems like a small price to pay.

"Let me tell the servants to leave and pick me up tomorrow, then," Draco says, giving in. Charlie has a smirk again.

…

Charlie only has one bed.

It's not surprising, really—who would have two beds if they lived alone?—but Draco still sees a huge problem: where is  _he_ supposed to sleep? The single bed seems like the obvious answer but then where would Charlie sleep? On the floor?

When Draco brings this up to Charlie, he chuckles. Draco thinks he can hear nervousness in the laugh.

"Well, Your Royal Highness," he says in a mock-respectful tone, "we're married. Most married people sleep in the same bed, so…"

Draco blinks. He looks at Charlie, then at the bed, then back at Charlie.

"You mean—?" he says, swallowing hard.

"I don't have a second bed, so yes."

Draco closes his eyes for a count of three. He doesn't have many options. He could sleep with Charlie, which he already knows will be awkward as  _hell_ , or he could sleep on the floor or on a couch. He'll be damned if he sleeps on a little couch.

"Fine," he says with gritting teeth. He climbs into the bed, reminding himself that it's only for one night and that he's only doing it so that he can actually get married to someone who he loves. Or  _will_  love, at least.

Draco squeezes his eyes shut tight, hoping sleep will come for him. He can hear Charlie laugh, as if he's  _pleased_ with himself. Charlie crawls into the bed, too, a few moments later. Draco's eyes are still closed but he can feel every single motion of the bed. They're on opposite sides, but Draco can still feel Charlie move for a bit before he hears his breathing even out. Now Draco just needs to relax himself enough for him to fall asleep, too, but he can't seem to do it.

It takes another hour for Draco to face the truth: he's  _not_  going to fall asleep. He opens his eyes and sits up, looking at Charlie while he sleeps. He looks peaceful, his mouth ever-so-slightly open and his chest rising slowly. He moves a little bit, but not much.

It's weird, but Draco isn't used to the simplicity of falling asleep. He's supposed to have tired himself out earlier with studying and he's used to falling asleep to footsteps outside of his door—guards walking around and protecting him, making sure he's safe. Theoretically, someone could just come in and murder him as he sleeps.

Draco lays back down, slowly, these thoughts on his mind, but then he considers Charlie. Charlie wouldn't let anybody  _kill_  him, right? It's also not a particularly hidden fact that Charlie has quite a bit of muscle. Draco smirks to himself as he closes his eyes again. Charlie would be able to protect him. Probably.

…

Draco doesn't remember falling completely asleep, but he wakes up to the sunlight leaking through the curtains. It's a weird feeling, waking himself up; usually someone comes in and wakes him, telling him to get dressed in his breakfast clothes and go join his parents.

Charlie's still asleep besides him, his ginger hair a complete mess. Draco wants to stretch his hand and fix it, but he restrains himself; it's not as if they're  _actually_ married. Well, they are, but it's not a  _true_  marriage. There's no love there.

 _You don't love Astoria either,_  a voice tells him, sneaking into his brain. He tries to shove it down because he  _knows_  that he doesn't love Astoria but he's certain that he  _will_. His parents had an arranged marriage, too, and they're in love.

Draco sighs loudly, almost in pain at the thought of not falling in love with Astoria. At his sigh, Charlie stirs, slowly opening his eyes.

"Good morning," Draco says. His voice is rough, like sandpaper.

"What time is it?" Charlie says with a groan. Draco shrugs. Charlie gives a deep sigh and gets up, anyway.

Draco stays sitting on the bed as Charlie moves around, changing into clean clothes. Draco shifts awkwardly; he's a little bit uncomfortable with watching Charlie change, but he can't seem to take his eyes away.

"Do you want some fresh clothes?" Charlie asks Draco and he nods. For the first time, he realises that he's wearing the same clothes he arrived in. He feels unclean.

Charlie tosses him a shirt and pants and they're amazingly… normal. Draco doesn't think that he's ever worn  _jeans_. He pulls them on, anyway, and they feel weird until Charlie laughs at him and tells him that he's wearing them backwards which makes no sense; the pockets should be in front, shouldn't they?

"Those are  _back_ pockets," Charlie says, as if talking to a child, "there are more pockets in the front."

Draco frowns. "If there are pockets on the back, how do you use them?"

Charlie laughs and Draco realises how nice of a laugh Charlie has. It's  _crisp_. Something blooms in Draco's chest. He likes making Charlie laugh.

Charlie makes Draco breakfast. The pancakes can't be that different from his chef's pancakes, Draco reasons, but they taste like something  _new_  when he bites into them.

They taste like Charlie, even though Draco has no idea how Charlie actually tastes like.

"I'm jealous of you," Draco tells Charlie, after swallowing another bite of breakfast.

"Oh, yeah?" Charlie asks, raising an eyebrow. "Are you jealous that I'm kind of pretty and you're not?"

"Kind of?" Draco asks, the words falling out of his mouth. He falters once he realises what he said. "No, I'm jealous because you don't care," he says quickly. "You don't  _have_  to care."

"I think that I care too much, really," Charlie says, swallowing several times. "I always care what other people think of me," he says.

"Yes, but what other people think of you won't ruin yourself," Draco counters. Draco's so prepared to pour his insecurities onto Charlie. It's as if Charlie is an open book, waiting for Draco to write his story.

Charlie opens his mouth to respond, but a knock comes on the door before he can.

Draco follows him to the door, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He's pretty sure he knows who it is, and he's right: his servants, with Longbottom at the lead.

"Your Royal Highness," Longbottom says, clutching the briefcase. Draco would never admit it, but he liked Charlie calling him that better, even if it was out of mockery.  _Because_  it was out of mockery. He doesn't know why, but Charlie has  _shifted_  something in him. He feels like he's young again, playing with the servants, even though his parents would tell him no.

He hates Charlie, but at the same time there's a sense of  _longing_  for him and those days. He doesn't want things to become complicated.

Charlie sighs as Longbottom opens the briefcase and brings out the divorce papers. It's weird; Draco almost forgot about them, just for a few minutes.

No one says anything as Charlie leans over to sign the paper.

"And Prince Draco," Longbottom says, "you'll need to sign too."

Longbottom hands Draco a pen, but he hesitates before signing right away. He's not sure why he's hesitating—it should be a no-brainer—but looking at Charlie and at the jeans he's wearing (which are a little  _too_ big) and the half-eaten stack of pancakes, Draco finds himself not wanting to sign the paper.

"Actually," he finds himself saying, not even sure where he's finding the words, "I think we need one more night."

One more night. One more to what? One more night for Draco to fit it nine years of marriage?

He knows that nothing is going to change for good, but for now he wants that.

One more night.


End file.
